


My

by talefeathers



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cute, Drabble, Grief/Mourning, One Shot, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:24:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talefeathers/pseuds/talefeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes.  "Why do you keep calling me My?" he groaned.  "It's <i>Mike.</i>  Everyone calls me Mike!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	My

While Mycroft read the words he'd said to Moriarty, the words that now swarmed the papers like ants, the events and dates and places that no one should have known, one moment replayed over and over across his mind's eye. One moment that he hadn't thought of in years. One moment he'd kept.

_There was a darkish hue about everything; it was a rainy weekday evening and the only light on in Mycroft's bedroom was his desk lamp. He could smell the rain drying into his shirt and the dinner his mother was cooking downstairs. He could hear his father using his most professional phone voice in the room above the ceiling, the rhythm of his speech accented by the creaking of the floorboards as he paced to and fro._

_"My, what've you done with the microscope?" Mycroft looked up from his homework as his four-year-old brother shuffled into his room, dark curls in comical disarray while icy eyes glared with an intensity no toddler should possess._

_"I put it back on my desk, where it_ belongs," _he replied, frowning. "It's not a toy."_

_"I wasn't_ playing _with it," Sherlock said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I need it. For a experiment."_

__"An _experiment," Mycroft corrected him lazily._

_"May I please have it back?"_

_"No."_

__"Myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" __

_Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes. "Why do you keep calling me My?" he groaned. "It's_ Mike. _Everyone calls me Mike!"_

__"I _don't," Sherlock pouted._

_"Why not?"_

_"Because you're_ My!" _he said as if it should be obvious._ "My _Mycroft."_

Mycroft folded the newspaper over so that he would no longer have to see the letters shouting FRAUD and DEAD. He set it down on the table beside him and tried to think of something that would smother those stubbornly affectionate words his brother had given him all those years ago. He leaned his forehead into his tented hands and tried to remember what he'd said to his little brother not so long ago about caring not being an advantage. And none of it dulled the hurt.


End file.
